BF: AUS 801st
''-This follows U.S. Private Austin Foley of the Army's 801st division, in the same universe as Battlefield: America Under Siege, but unrelated to the primary story within it. Rather, this is a different account from a military unit's point of view on the offensive retaking America-'' ''2250, over the Mojave Desert'' I could see Vegas in the night. Not because of the fancy lights, but rather lights from artillery, firefights, dog fights, and other scenes of combat. I was soon to be apart of it. We were speeding towards the sieged Sin City in UH-60 Blackhawks, to land among other U.S. military elements soon heading into the frey to reclaim the city. This had been attempted numerous times, over the course of six months since the military had launched the counteroffensive against the North Koreans who had taken control of U.S. soil back in July last year. And so we landed at the Henderson Executive Airport that was fortified and converted to a staging area. I was apart of third platoon, bravo company, first battalion. My platoon was led by a'' Lt. Soon. ''The company was led by the Cpt. Hagr, who we were following to report to the C.O. of this Camp Hotel-6. "Hotel," would you believe that? In Vegas. Military teases you like that. Anyway, after we were briefed, the company attached to a convoy that we made up the most of. The rest was an engineer outfit made up of a few dozen men. ''0029, a few miles near Camp Hotel-6'' Shit! That was all I could think as I loaded my M416. I looked up at the red flare that illuminated everything around me. I glanced over the ditch to get a sight of the many hostile flashes. As soon as I saw one, I fixed my rifle on it and fired semi. I coudn't tell whether I'd hit my mark or not, but I must've been looking for too long because I heard a loud snap, loud as a firework, sparks, then a huge flaring pain encompassing the entire right side of my face. Then... black? 0009, twenty minutes earlier, Foley's convoy en route along Volunteer blvd, south of the staging area and Vegas I was in the second humvee, back right window. I heard my buddy, our gunner, complain, "Man, I can't see a worth a dime in the black! Why didn't they give us NVGs?!" I grinned. That was Jan More, my oldest friend since basic. His complaining was light-hearted, comical, even. He was black and devoutly religious, so he didn't curse all that much, leading him to be picked on a lot. Even now, in the pitch black, gunner of the second humvee, which was pretty dangerous, he was still only bitching about how undersupplied we are. "What are we even doing again?" I heard. That was was Taylor Aaley, on my left. She was a hard-ass, and her two stripes showed it. Besides Sergeant Call, she was the highest ranking in the humvee. Everyone else were privates, not even first class. "We're sweeping through some buildings and clearing 'em out 'cause the threat is too close to the staging area," I replied, "quit your bitching." To be honest, I thought she was kinda hot. A white redhead who took no shit. Very attractive. "Maintain noise discipline!" Sgt. Call yelled. Call was cool, he was one of the old-timers from when thr 801st was in France, when he first enlisted some years ago. A couple more quiet moments of uneventful scanning. Empty buildings, empty streets as far the eye could see. Yeah, the civilians were cleared out one way or another a long time ago when the Koreans first invaded. I still contemplated. Before the invasion, this city would have been full of sights and sounds. And now.... Out of the silence, rapid gunshots, rockets, an explosion. "CONTACT!" I heard Call scream, and the humvee in front of us went up in flames. "AMBUSH!" "Contact left, contact left!" I heard some other soldiers call out. Our humvee got strafed, and the guy in the passennger seat in front of me caught a lot of it. Did I even know him? Call ducked down in time to evade the bullets, I leaned left to get out of their stretch, and Aaley wasn't even close to them, besides her own that were flying out the window. I grabbed her, "Aaley, this way!" She looked over and started crawling her way as I leapt out the door and dove into a ditch parallel to the rode. "More, you good?!" I could tell he was, his .50 cal was the only source of light. Looking over to my left, I could see the rest of the convoy in the ditch returning fire. I could only see this from their muzzle reports, until a flare went up and Aaley hopped into the ditch next to me. Shit! That was all I could think as I loaded my M416. I looked up at the red flare that illuminated everything around me. I glanced over the ditch to get a sight of the many hostile flashes. As soon as I saw one, I fixed my rifle on it and fired semi. I coudn't tell whether I'd hit my mark or not, but I must've been looking for too long because I heard a loud snap, loud as a firework, sparks, then a huge flaring pain encompassing the entire right side of my face. Then... black? My eyes slowly opened. I could feel that I was flat on my back, my head turned right. My vision focused, and I saw the bloody heap of what I could barely make out to be a dead man, staring straight back at me. What the fuck, I thought. I tried to sit upright, and I was instantly hit with a wave of nausea and an urge to puke. I laid back down and tried to make sense from there. I heard gunfire - lots of it. Close, too, accompanied by yelling and occasional explosions that I made out to be grenades. I remembered what happened to me; the ambush, and my wound. I felt it with my shredded oakley glove; blood, but not fresh nor continuous. Yes, it was a graze. I looked at my watch - 1012, - didn't we set out at 0000? Then, out of the corner of my eye, a building went up in flames. I tried to get up again. "Foley!" I heard a voice. I glanced over at the direction it came from, and I saw a soldier running over. I recognized him - Staff Sergeant Leland. He was from second platoon, a good NCO from what I'd heard. He helped me up. "What's going on?" I managed. "We're destroying those nests," he gestured at the now-smoking building as he bandaged my arm, "you know, like we're supposed to be doing?" "Right. No, shit." I looked around for my rifle, and found it at the feet of that corpse next to me. "Damn, who is that? Or, was?" "Pretty sure that was Corporal Lanney," he answered, examining my head wound. Was he a medic? "Who?" "Rob Lanney, he was in your squad. What, you didn't know him?" he asked questioningly as he dressed my graze. "Shit, I guess not..." He was in my squad? How did I not notice him? "Well, his brother's gonna take the news worse." Leland sighed. Before I asked again, he added, "private in my platoon, younger. Lot younger." I looked over at Lanney's corpse. Damn, we just got here, too. Which made me think.. "If he's a corporal, how long's he been around?" "Italy." Goddamn. I heard about Italy, cleaning up what was left of the Russians there in Sicily two years ago. From what I heard, it wasn't as bad as Mahabad or Reims, but what did happen was just stressful and frustrating. This guy was a part of that, his little brother joining same time as me, but dying here, in Nevada, back home, fighting for the same reasons. That's when I really understood the stakes. 0543, C: H-6 We returned to Camp Hotel-Six (C: H-6) after a few more hours of fighting and cleaning up at the nests. SSgt. Leland determined I wasn't fit for more fighting (turns out he was a medic) with my head wound and shredded arm, which I hadn't even remembered banging up. While Leland was tending to my wounds at the ambush site, the rest of the company was eliminating the rest of the Korean garrison at those nests and taking prisoners. The official SITREP was as follows: six U.S. KIA - five from the humvee that blew up in front of me and Cpl. Lanney being lit up like a Christmas tree, 60 Korean KIA - about a dozen from the initial ambush, and a helluva lot more from the nests. Twenty one U.S. wounded, including myself. Unknown NK wounded. We captured nineteen NK soldiers that we've sent back to Castle. Speaking of which, our commander - codenamed Castle - set up a central operating base, so we are much more organized. 0700 Within two hours, we were resupplied and ready to be mobilized again. I put up a good arguement as to letting me back out again with my wounds, insisting my head was just about fully healed in the seven hours since I'd first received it. The convoy my company initially moved out in was going to be used again to cover up some big flank in the city that was exposing another ground unit. We were heading into deeper territory, which meant harder fighting probably worse casualties. However, a few dozens Abrams were going to back us up, along with the air support that was helping out other already-entrenched fighters. And, so, I caught up with my platoon and found my squad, who I was supposed to be riding with again. Aaley saw me first and came up and hugged me. "Holy shit! I thought you were dead!" Yeah, that helped my self-confidence. Well, the huv actually did boost me up. Fuck, Aaley was hot. She continued, "I saw that shot hit you and your head fell flat. I called for a medic, but we were ordered to push up. I saw More pull out Lanney next to you, and I didn't want to see the both of your bodies there, so I moved with the rest of the platoon." More spoke up, "Yeah, I knew Lanney was a goner for sure, but I flipped you over to try and dress you, but I couldn't tell whether you were gone or not. Then, I got nearly got lit up but your arm caught it and I got out without a scratch." I glanced down at my arm. So that's how it got shredded. I saw Sgt. Call coming up to us. "Follow me, LT's gonna brief us," he said. Lieutenant Soon, my platoon leader told us of Objective Speed, which was, as I mentioned earlier, a large exposed flank that were supposed to cover for anothrr battalion. As he briefed us, I could see out of the corner of my eye, a soldier crying. Another soldier next to him was trying to consul him. I remembered. " His brother's gonna take the news worse," SSgt. Leland had said. That crying soldier must've been the younger private Lanney in second platoon. Damn, I couldn't imagine what it was like to lose your brother in the that same firefight that you were in, so close to him. But I could relate. My father died when I was just six during the Iraq War. A cousin of mine and childhood friend died when the 801st was in Mahabad, when I was twelve or thirteen. Now, I felt like I was doing them right to carry on the soldier tradition and fighting these invaders. These were my thoughts as we rode out in an LAV-25 to Objective Speed. I thought about the statistics I'd read of the conflicts including my father in Iraq and the 801st in Iran. I thought about how I will be a statistic when the invasion on America would be recored. I will be a statistic in the strength of the fighting forces. I will be a statistic in the wounded of the fighting for forces. I will be a statistic in the Las Vegas fighters. These were the statistics I certainly am right now, but I will be a statistic of much more right now. I thought of this Operation: Vegas Freedom. So was the name of the retaking of Vegas. The Battle of Vegas. My battle. ''0730'' We were speeding along our route. I couldn't be more detailed, as I was in a fortified LAV. It wasn't like the humvees, with five windows and four doors. There was only one set of two doors, on my left. No windows, either. We sat in silence, facing eachother. Four of us, Sergeant Call with his standard M416, Private More, with his M249 as support gunner, Corporal Aaley and her SCAR-H as heavy rifleman, and, lastly, me checking my, like Call, standard M416. In the LAV, there was room for six passengers. From the start, my squad was made up of five soldiers, but Corporal Lanney was killed on our last objective. Besides Call, this was the first time in real combat. Call had seen most of the combat that the 801st was involved in since France, in 2016 or '17. Back then, we would've been cleaning up stray Ruskies and PLR from the War in 2014. As for the rest of us, this was going to be our first toe-to-toe scene of fighting. We had some from the ambush on our last mission, but that was just against a handful of infantry. Now, we were going to hold our ground on the front line against large forces including vehicular elements and heavy arms. I also thought about the younger Private Lanney and his crying in the arms of Leland over his brother's fate. I thought that there'll be a lot more of that if we failed in retaking Vegas and the rest of our country. If we didn't finish this fight against North Korea. The LAV halted and we disembarked. Call, who was sitting across from me, hopped out first and led us to our LT for our orders. Along the way, we passed other guys of the company who'd apparently already gotten their orders from either their own platoon leader of Captain Hagr. We found Lieutenant along with the rest of the platoon. We were instructed to cover an intersection on the northwest. We made our way to the position that was already fortified by the other unit that we were supposed to be replacing. More and the rest of the support gunners of the platoon set up their light machine guns on the sandbags and low walls. The others like me, with light assault rifles, were supposed to assist the gunners. The rest like Aaley were going to be rifleman, moving about with agility to eliminate enemy personnel. And so we waited.